Eden Rise
by Love Alchemist
Summary: Yaoi. AU. Daeva and Spira are at war. But what happens when not all Daimons are evil, and not all Spirituals good, a legend is true, and untraditonal bonds are formed, all for the forging of the promised land; Eden? BR, (YYY)
1. The White Demon

Disclaimer: Yes, yes I don't own it.

And yes... I KNOW I shouold work on other things. But this bunny wouldn't leave me _alone_! It threathened to mutate and tear me to shreds! I hope you can forgive. Angels and demons (or not) oh, my!

/stares at fic/ Yeah, I'm aware it's very much a cliché already.... but some of them I can't leave alone. Hope you can forgive. This was one of them... I really didn't want to give in and write it, since it' hard to keep the feeling of the original series inextreme AUs like this. But, yah. Happened.

_/Thoughts/  
::Speech between Bonds::  
:Speech between Bonds:_ (this one won't happen for a while yet, but I have it here, it's one for each person.)

* * *

Chapter 1; The White Demon 

_Hallowed be Thy name  
Prince of the Blood, Son of the Land  
Inverse be Thy nature  
But black bleeds from white, and so balanced out_

_Hallowed be Thy name  
Heir of the Blood, Lord of the Land  
Fierce as blood and fire  
But sees to health and living, and so balanced out_

_Hallowed be Thy names  
Lord and Lady of the Heaven and Earth,  
Chaos of Space that surrounds us  
Protect the Blood, protect the Land, so we all can prosper and live  
Hallowed be Thy names and Presence in all that exist_

The chanting echoed through the temple, the morning prayer for the Royal Family and the Twinned Ruling Deities and Chaos a constant for the priests who lived there and whoever wanted to pray for their rulers' health. Two figures stood in the shadows cast by a pillar, none of the small glowing balls of light that served as lamps anywhere near. The prayer was chanted three times before it was over, the priests, priestesses and few commoners present rising from their positions on the floor and moving away for whatever errands required their attention next. One of the figures leaned back against the pillar, momentarily coming into reach of one of the "Fairy-lights", his hair flashing sliver.

"It's admirable that you are present for every morning prayer, all year round, Nii-sama."

The silvery haired one said softly, looking out over the large temple hall with the statue of the Twinned Deities dominating the head of the room. The other figure, a little shorter than the first, shrugged.

"This is the place where my High Priest is each morning, and so is the easiest place to find him. I do not have enough hours in the day for leisurely dallying, otouto. Ah, Seto. Finally.

I will see you later, otouto." The spiky-haired young man nodded to his white-haired little brother, bronze skin gleaming in the fairy-lights as he moved out of the shadows to greet the High Priest. Looking after the short ruler of Daeva, Ryou sighed and shook his head, feeling sad.

"Maybe not, but before, you _took_ the time. You listened to the prayer not because it was where Seto was, but because you wanted to. Did you forget that?" The pale-skinned young Daimon looked nothing like his older brother, but that could be credited to Ryou's mother; their father's second wife. Ryou took after her while Atemu looked like their late father, may he rest in peace with the Lady, multihued and spiky hair and all.

"Standing here sulking again, your highness?" The bright voice made Ryou jump and he scowled down at the brown-haired and doe-eyed girl as he turned around to face her.

"I'm not 'sulking', Mana. It's just..." Ryou made a helpless gesture towards the disappearing figures of the Lord and the High Priest. The priestess-in-training nodded.

"I know. He's forgotten how to relax. It's this war, is all. He needs someone to remind him he don't need to work all the time, remind him to have fun."

Ryou nodded and shrugged, blue eyes darkening with unhappiness.

"Yes, but it doesn't seem that person exist anywhere close to here. A Bond would do him good."

"A Bond would do _you_ good too, your highness!" The girl said mischievously, cackling as she ran away from Ryou and to her lessons. Scowling again, Ryou gave in to the childish urge to stick his tongue out, but quickly withdrew it. Wouldn't do if anyone saw the Heir behaving like a Daimon of 5 turns. He had a front to uphold. But since he'd been standing in the shadows, and there'd been no one close to observe him, he assumed his momentarily lapse could be excused. Turning around and stalking out, large black bat wings curled tightly together on his back and contrasting starkly against his clothes in white and ice-blue, Ryou headed for the drill-area of the palace. He needed to get some practice in. Who knew when those sneaky Spirituals would send another attack?

* * *

Slash, hack, swing, parry, thrust, twirl-slash, stab... The movements were second nature to the Daimon, his weapon a trusted friend in his hands. He had a whole area for himself, not only because he was the Crown Prince, but also because he simply was too good for all of their troops. There was no challenge there. So he made do with the Dance, submerging himself into the dangerous and graceful trance-like state of it. It kept his edge, even if he had no one to spar against... A clang of steel against steel didn't disturb his trance, he only adjusted so he followed the flow of air that was created as his opponent moved. A sharp yell had his eyes snapping open, and he realized what he had been about to do. Shaking, he drew the glaive away from Karimu's throat, backing off. 

"I-I'm sorry Captain. I... I didn't mean..." Oh, Lady, what had he almost done? The Dance was so dangerous since its practitioners could easily fall too deep into it and kill _any_one with a weapon, no matter if they were supposed to be on "his" side or not, or if there was a battle going on or just a sparring session. The black-haired man shook his head.

"Nothing to excuse for, your highness. I knew the danger, and you did stop." His voice was deep and soothing, usually able to still the fears of even the most nervous cadet, but not today.

"No... Captain, I could just as well have finished it! This wasn't even a _battle_ for Lady's sake! And I... I could have.... I should stop practice the Dance." Ryou was wringing his hands, huge blue eyes staring into the Captain's own. Karimu's face gentled from its usual stern and unmoving mask, showing sympathy, understanding, and pride in its place.

"Your highness. You know it's impossible for those practicing the Dance to just quit it. Those with the skill do not just decide to start practice it; they are _called_ by it. You will stop the Dance as soon you can learn how to live without breathing. You know this. I have the outmost faith in you, your highness. If there is anyone able to stop when needed, it is you."

Ryou didn't believe him, what did he know? He didn't feel the Dance as Ryou did, and didn't have the knowledge... and besides... Even if Ryou happened to have good discipline and a will not to hurt others when it was avoidable, _everybody_ knew that only those that had Bonds could really trust themselves not to lose themselves to the Dance, since their Bonds could call them back. And Ryou didn't have a Bond. It was not unknown for longtime Dancers to suddenly loose themselves, killing everything and everyone in reach and sight before, without even leaving the trance, somehow knowing what they had done, killing themselves. The worst case had been a Spiritual loosing themselves in a battle against the Daimons.

Back then, some three thousand years ago, both Spirituals and Daimons practiced the Dance, but after that the dance was forbidden among Spirituals. Concerning the battle, which was known both officially and in common man's mouth as the Massacre at Rising Hill, the Spiritual had lost himself, and killed every warrior on both sides. As the sun set, the only one standing was that lone Spiritual. Depending on which version you read, the Spiritual either killed himself out of grief and guilt, or went crazy, running away to never be seen again.

Some others even said it had been a final act of revenge; it was said the Spiritual's village had been gruesomely butchered, every last person within it killed, both by Daimons and Spirituals. The reason had been that the village had been standing on a rich nexus of magic, a portal to that void where Chaos reigned supreme; the Shadow Realm. However it was with that, neither side had been able to claim the supposed nexus since the area was, even today, impossible to live in, cursed by Chaos itself for the horrifying deed done to those who guarded one of the portals to the Shadow Realm.

* * *

Turning the last page of the book, Ryou sighed. Personally he'd always thought it was the last. There actually _was_ a place between the borders of Daeva and Spira which was as the last version of the story described it. Not that it could be confirmedif there actually was a ruin on that piece of land, since no one who ventured there had survived. Getting up from the chair, the Daimon picked up his blue-and white armless robe and put it on. It reached his ankles, swirling around his legs as he moved around his room, righting things and putting others away. Their intelligence had picked up that Spira planned another attack and Ryou was, as a representative of the Royal House, going with the army. 

Biting his lower lip, the slender prince stopped at a large window, looking out at the rain-drenched landscape outside.

Seemed the Lord agreed with him.

This war was pure stupidity and old, scorned pride. Neither side was giving this up. Whatever started the conflict had been long lost to the fog of time, and it probably wouldn't matter anymore. They were fighting, and would so continue until the other side had been annihilated.

A pale-skinned hand, almost translucent in its delicate shade, was lifted up and long, fine-boned fingers traced the fine carvings in the glass. He had a feeling about this battle... something. He couldn't say if it was good or bad yet, but _some_thing would happen. The Lord and Lady were balance and order, keeping Daeva and Spira on a carefully crafted scale. Neither was loosing, but no one was winning either. But now Chaos was stirring, and was not pleased at what it was seeing. No change, nor growth, can come from stagnation, and apparently Chaos had decided this stagnation had been going on for long enough.

That was what it felt like to Ryou at least. And he knew to trust these little instincts. Besides being gifted with the Dance, he also had the touch of Chaos, being able to control the beings living in that dark void called the Shadow Realm without the help of a Dia Diank, which most others would need. His older brother was one among those in Daeva who didn't need one either. But his touch of Chaos went a little deeper than that. Sometimes, he would get feelings that something would happen, good or bad, and could be prepared. Sometimes he even thought he could see the shades of people long gone, still lingering at the edges of this reality... A knock on the door interrupted Ryou's musings and he turned around calling out for his visitor to enter.

"Hello Karimu." Ryou said softly, smiling happily. He was glad the Captain was going. But that was no surprise really; while his title may only have been "Captain" in the army, during battle it was "General-Commander" which meant he had complete control over the whole army, even over the other Generals, who, in Ryou's humble opinion, were conceited assholes who needed a kick in the behind and get down from their high, noble horses. The other Generals were all nobles, three of them having inherited their positions, while the fourth had worked herself to it, and was the only one Ryou liked. He was scared of her, but he liked her. Needless to say, the other Generals hated her.

"Ready your highness?" The Captain asked and Ryou smiled again, nodding.

"As ready as I can be... let's go then, yes?"

Karimu didn't answer, but bowed and stepped to the side as Ryou walked out of his room and down the corridor to yet another useless confrontation.

* * *

Cold air tore and bit into whatever uncovered skin it could find, unpredictable gusts of air making the battle-field hard to navigate. 

Ryou ducked, almost lazily, under another swing, having noticed that one ages before it even came close to him. For Ryou, this was all child's play. No Spiritual practiced the Dance anymore, it was even forbidden on a punishment of exile to Dance, so no one had the level of skill to match this furious angel of Death.

The air was filled with the scream of metal, battle-cries, and the shouts of dying warriors as they plunged towards the earth below them, and flurries of white feathers from the Spirituals' wings. Ryou was a sight to behold on the battlefield, nimble and graceful, swift as falcon, black wings beating the air to effortlessly keep him aloft. The fact that his armor went in the same color-scheme as his usual clothing shook many; in white and ice-blue he was a contradiction if there ever was one. Blue eyes regretful, and apologetic even in the seductively softand destructive hand of the Dance.

He saw his opponents, and yet not. A black-winged, pale-clad harbinger of death.

A blade suddenly struck Ryou's own and he immediately opened his eyes. This was different. The feeling he'd had a week ago came back in full force, battering him with its insistence. Red and black. That was what first registered in Ryou's mind. The dark skin and burning, silvery eyes were next. Another contradiction in a sea of convention.

Daeva's army had colors of dark red, black and purple, while Spira's army went in white, lavender and gold. This Spiritual had armor in blood-red carved with a strangely hypnotic pattern. Ryou absently noticed the carvings portrayed suffering people, but, most strangely, the carvings portrayed both Daimons and Spirituals. His leathers went in black and he had a positively wicked looking scimitar in his hands, with a pair of curved and with extra points sticking from the gleaming blades, knives tucked in his sash.

Ryou wasn't able to catch his opponent's eyes, because suddenly, he found himself hard-pressed to defend himself against the Spiritual. Employing all his strength and skill he quickly succumbed to the Dance fully. But not even now he could come close enough to kill the Spiritual. They were evenly matched, black-purple handled glaive against the steel, with red veins running along the metal, scimitar.

Trading blow for blow they raced through the air, blood suddenly blossoming on one blade. Ryou gasped, eyes widening in pain before shutting down. He didn't even glance at the wound in his left upper arm where the scimitar had bitten into his flesh.

He was vaguely aware of the battle around him, of something important taking place somewhere off to his right, but it didn't register. He had his hands full, there were others to take care of whatever it was. The air around them seemed to have enclosed them in a bubble, where nothing else but them existed.

There was no sound, no wind, no other warriors. Only the cold enveloping them in unforgiving caresses as they fought.

A swish-flick of his glaive, shadowed-violet eyes widening as blood blossomed on the other blade. Then the eyes narrowed again and the wild-haired man smirked appreciatively before lunging forward, ignoring the blood running down the right side of his face. Another swish-flick and _twirl_, but the move that should have killed the Spiritual had done little more than to add to the scratch on his face. It _should_ have lopped his head off cleanly, but that wasn't what had happened. Ryou growled and lunged forward angrily. He was aware of hearing someone scream, and then realized it was he.

A burning in his side, but he ignored it, he finally _had_ his opponent!

_NO_ one escaped him!

Then intense blue locked with surprised silver and Ryou faltered. Not because of the eyes, or the look in them, even if there was something there calling to him... but because of what he'd just had done crashed down in him.

He'd given himself completely over to the Dance. He froze, shocked, feeling a disgusting tentacle of shame and horror crawl up his throat.

WHY..?

He didn't have time to react as the butt of the scimitar's handle connected with his temple.

* * *

And this was the end of this first chapter.... usual angel/demon cliché with a twist I hope.... 

"Dia Diank" (however it is spelled) is the equivalent of duel disks in the Ancient Egypt Arc. And a fun fact; did you know that "Daimon", which is ancient Greek, actually was a guardian spirit, and not a demon? Something to think about! XD


	2. The Black Heart of a Spiritual

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own it.

Aah. The second chapter. Hope you like. And to clear one thing up about Spira and Daeva's religious system; both have three Divine beings at their core, the only difference is that in Daeva, one of them is female, and in Spira, all three are male. But the three Divinities of the two countries are the same beings, just being perceived slightly differently in each country.

And to help you; a Bond is like a "marriage", but on a spiritual level. It can be left unfulfilled, but the two who deny it will always feel that there's something missing, and experience a kind of mental "pain". And even unfulfilled; if one of the Bond-mates dies, the other dies too. Bonded, the two will be stronger than alone, complete each other as it were.

Warnings; from this chapter on, mentions of incest (but that is questionable, as it's the Gods we're talking about here), cursing… forgot to mention this in the first chappie. Bakura has a dirty mouth! Whatever else comes up will be mention when it is relevant to the story.

Thank you to those who rewieved!

**Consumed Rachel**: Thank you! And concerning Atemu/Yami and Yuugi… in this story they will only be mentioned in short paragraphs or in passing, the focus is on Ryou and Bakura. I'm sorry.

**Samurai Angel**: Heh, thank you. And I don't know if this is _soon_ but… I hope you get your story out fine. /Waves/

**Pork Steak the Grande**: Thanks, and yeah, it can possibly be kind if confusing, because I mention things that won't be explained until later, but I'm happy you found the story interesting enough to read on anyway! And good that I managed to make the plotline somewhat original concerning such a cliché as this one.

**YamiShadowcat22**: Back again I see, fun (for me, and hopefully for you too)! And I'll try too keep it up!

**Hales731**: Heya! /glomp/ Aah, I hope this is an interesting enough continuation for you! I had fun with it anyway. Especially near the end… my sis helped with that… /Cackles/

* * *

Chapter 2; The Black Heart of a Spiritual 

Choking gasp, jerk upright, and Ryou was awake. With a groan he fell back on the bed again, the pain from his various wounds awakening from their rest, now back full force to pester him since he was awake and could appreciate their effort. Blue eyes closed, the young Daimon mentally counted his wounds from where he could feel bandage wrapped around them. His left arm, the first one. His right side, slightly diagonal, must have been that burning he'd felt in the side, oh well. And throbbing in his right temple reminded him he'd been hit there too. Soft, almost imperceptible, footsteps closed in on him. Ryou forced his body to relax and appear lax, but it was so... He choked again, eyes flying open as he received a light cuff by a foot to his injured right side.

"I know you're awake, so you can just stop playing." Soft, impatient growl in a deep voice that seemed to sooth Ryou, even when it very clearly wasn't supposed to. Opening his eyes he looked up from his position on the mound of pillows he was lying on into hard, narrowed silver. Confident smirk all over, the tall, muscular Spiritual fairly exuded an aura of "I am so much better than you, bow. NOW."

Ryou grimaced at his predicament. Apparently none of his own troops had been close enough to catch him. But it didn't surprise him, really. They'd both been using the Dance, and unless any and all other had kept away, they could very well have been chopped down in the process of the two combatants trying to kill each other.

"I hope you excuse me for not getting up and greeting you properly." Ryou said, with only a faint trace of sarcasm in his voice. The dark-skinned Spiritual's smirk widened and he bowed mockingly.

"No, no your highness. Just stay where you are. Crown Prince Ryou of Daeva, an honor." The General of Spira's army (Ryou had finally been able to connect the faint familiarity with a name and position; General Bakura of Spira, no other name given.) sat down in a chair placed at the side of the mound of pillows, by a small table of dark wood. _His_ voice screamed of the amused sarcasm that he apparently wasn't polite enough to keep bottled. Or he just didn't care if his "guest" took notice.

Ryou bowed his head, noting the bandage wrapped around the right side of the Spiritual's face. So he'd managed to at least deal Bakura more than mere scratches.

"Charmed," he murmured, a quick smile flashing over his face. And surprisingly even for Ryou, he was perfectly honest. Even the General seemed to be momentarily confused by the prince's less than acid response.

"But, if you excuse me for prying, I thought the Dance was forbidden among Spirituals?"

Ryou asked curiously, keeping a polite smile fixed on his face, eyes widened to project a more "harmless" facade. If they thought you were sweet and brainless, they were more likely to answer your questions. And he almost got an answer too; the General opened his mouth before snapping it closed, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"I see how you got your reputation for being dangerous, even without a weapon, your highness. Let's just say I'm... an exception. That's all you'll get." His voice deepened with danger and Ryou decided to let it go. The General wasn't known for his sweet disposition.

"What will happen?" The white-haired Daimon didn't need to elaborate; it was quite apparent what he was talking about. The General looked up from where he was sharpening his scimitar, casting a quick look at Ryou where he sat on the pillows and shrugged, before looking down again.

"The idiots wanted to kill you, since it would hurt the Lord of Daeva. Luckily for you, I thought it was better to keep you alive, and I'm quite sure his majesty will agree with me."

Cocking his head, Ryou thought back on the battle. While he never had a very good grip on what was happening at the same time as the battle played out, afterwards he always found he could remember things he wasn't sure he had could have seen when fighting.

"Because unfortunately for you, your Crown Prince was captured, wasn't he?"

The General's head snapped up and he growled angrily at Ryou's sweet tone, and what he'd said. Dark fingers twitched.

"Careful, your highness. While you're more valuable alive, no one has anything against you arriving at the capital roughened up. There has been a battle after all, so no one will wonder about any wounds that may or may not have been there right after the battle."

Ryou's eyes widened slightly and he bowed his head nervously.

"Of course. I'm sorry for being rude." Silence from the General and finally Ryou couldn't take it anymore and looked up. Blue caught in surprised silver. Whispery silver fog over an endless sea. Mingling, dancing above the waves, with them. And...

"Right. Stay there." The Spiritual broke the gaze abruptly, stalking stiffly out of the tent, his back almost rigidly straight. _/What... was that? I've never... It was absolutely wondrous.../_ Ryou's thoughts flitted back to that moment where their gazes had locked, and a dreamy smile broke out on his face, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. He wasn't aware of doing so, and didn't know what the strange glow that had appeared right then had been. But he had a feeling it was important. Really important. Someone else, on the other hand, had seen that far-away smile and unfocused eyes, and swore.

* * *

Growling, the great General of Spira stalked through the camp, all and sundry scattering before him like doves before a cat. He had made the mistake of stopping right outside the tent and look back in. And that _smile_. That stupid, pathetic, brainlessly _insipid_ smile and bright, soft eyes. /_He doesn't know. Too young to know./_ A short, wry laugh spilled past his lips. _/Compared to you, everyone is "too young" you ass./_

Stopping at the bank of a little river that meandered past the camp, Bakura leaned against an old willow that stretched its twisted branches over the water. /_And he will_ never _know. Such a bright and sweet soul, it's a wonder he isn't a Spiritual... As if we'd be more favored by The Three, than the Daimons./_Bakura thought with a sneer, picking bark off the stem and throwing the pieces into the stream. /_A Bond. After all this time./_

"DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY!? HUH? Laughing at me, I'm sure! Goddamned Gods. Not good for anything. Doesn't help when they should, and stick their long noses in when they shouldn't!" The General hissed angrily, the poor willow taking the brunt of his ire. No one had followed their General, so no one saw the outburst. They all knew when to keep "the fuck away", as their so eloquent General would phrase it.

Gritting his teeth he sank down on his heels, a fist shaking with strain. Staring into his clear reflection, he gave a sudden roar and slammed a hand down in the water, disrupting the surface and distorting the reflection. /_Too bloody. As if I could touch anything that pure and not taint it. But they all deserved it. Massacring a village that couldn't defend itself. Even the "gentler and nobler" Spirituals. Hah. They got what was coming to them. The Massacre at Rising Hill, a fitting name./_ A bitter laugh danced out over the surface of the stream, mingling with the lengthening shadows as night advanced. The laugh choked on itself, turning into a groan and finally a half-sob. Hiding his face in his hands, Bakura laughed as tears that hadn't been falling in over three thousand years trickled down dusky-skinned cheeks and fell to the ground, wetting the grass.

"Hell. Just... Damn you." The whisper was lost and carried away on the little stream as the moon rose.

* * *

Somewhere else entirely, a being stared at a mirror seemingly hanging suspended in the air by nothing, and chuckled maliciously. 

"Finally got that kick in the rear end you've been waiting for, eh? Not exactly what you expected, was it? Take that, bitch! See it as both a reward and a punishment for what you've done and what has been done to you." The figure said congenially, leaned forward in its seat in a confidential manner, but malicious mischievousness bubbled just under the surface. Then the pony tailed redhead broke out into riotous laughter, its head thrown back. Which was abruptly interrupted as it, (most often identifying itself as a "he") got smacked on the back of the head.

"Hey! I was enjoying myself here! Have some respect for privacy!" The young-looking being, right now in the form of a slender and tall male with a whitish scar slashing horizontally over the bridge of his nose exclaimed.

"Why don't you pick on someone else for a change? It was hardly _his_ fault that the original war broke out. It was yo-"

"Oh, shut up! He's been resisting us since the beginning! We can't get anywhere due to his mulish stubbornness!" The redhead scowled and crossed his arms. The second being, (who seemed to be slightly undecided as to which gender to assume, in Daeva it was female and in Spira male, but right now it was in a male body) who had long golden hair, raised a wing-like eyebrow and planted its hands on slender hips.

"That may be, but that's no reason to single him out. _Even_ if he would have to have Bonded with that Daimon sooner or later for the process to finally reach its last stages. You're impossible, Osiris. What do you have against him?" The being, in Spira known as the Golden Lord Ra (and in Daeva as the Lady) said exasperatedly, hands flung in the air. Scowling, the Red Lord Osiris shrugged nonchalantly, glancing back at the mirror, which now showed a young and short Spiritual with strange spiky and multi-colored hair sitting in a tent talking with a brown-haired and blue eyed Daimon.

"I can't stand him." Came the childish response, the statuesque young man's face locked in a stubborn expression.

"And who's being childishly stubborn now?! Otou-sama! 'Ris is at it again!" Ra shouted frustrated to the "room" behind the one the two Gods were in. A soft chuckle could be heard from the room beyond and a third being, this one with short, blue-white hair wild about its face, came in. Lord Obelisk, in Daeva known as Chaos and the Lord of the Shadow Realm, leaned lazily against the doorframe.

"I can see that. But it's no wonder really. He needs to get laid. Why don't you show a little brotherly love and help him out, Ra?" Another lazy chuckle as both younger Gods shrieked, outraged, at their father.

"Calm down, you two. Not an ounce of humor in any of you. But by the by, how long will you deny your father grandchildren?"

Before Ra could go apoplectic with rage (was that even possible for a God?), the Blue Lord waved a hand to calm his sons.

"Children, children. Now, as long as 'Ris doesn't drive the Spiritual any crazier than he already is, there is no need to worry, Ra. And that Spiritual is a stubborn ass, so unfortunately he needs good incentive. Even with this, it will take a while for him to accept it. But I have the outmost faith in that young Daimon to make him see the truth. I am more concerned for our oblivious leader of the Daimons and his intended Bond... they could both prove to be slightly... naive." Obelisk studied the nails on one hand and walked out of the room again.

"And I'm still waiting for those grandchildren, both of you." The Blue Lord of creation ducked his head as a flame erupted from the room he'd left behind, flaring past him and narrowly avoiding singeing his hair. Chuckling, he faded away.

* * *

Ryou sighed and turned around carefully, as to not aggravate his wound. When the General had returned to the tent, he'd still been in the foulest of moods. And even when the slender Daimon had dared to approach his grumpy "caretaker" and lightly touched his arm in hopes of making whatever it was better (how, he didn't know, but trying had, he hoped, never killed anyone), he'd gotten mixed signals. 

First, the tall Spiritual would relax, only just and only noticeable as Ryou had his hand on the muscled arm, and then he would tense, whirl around, and snap that it was nothing, that he wanted to be left alone.

But the young Daimon was sure there had been longing in those cold eyes, but also self-hatred.

For whatever reason, Ryou hadn't been able to figure out yet.

Flopping down in his stomach, white hair fanning out around his face and spilling onto the pillows, his wings spreading out behind him freely he relaxed again, finding this position tolerable. /_I don't know why, but I want to.../_ Frowning, as he didn't really know what he wanted, Ryou thought again of the tall, muscular and handso--eh... the Spiritual. /_I want to help him. To make whatever it is better... Stupidity, thy name is Ryou!/_ He groaned mentally, but felt satisfied at having come to that conclusion. That was what he _wanted_ to do, and hopefully he wouldn't get killed in the process. /_And tomorrow, we're breaking camp for Spira's capital... Did I plan on living long?/_ Ryou didn't think much more that night, his breaths evening out and becoming deeper, battle-bruised body quickly falling asleep.

Therefore he didn't notice when a shadow walked up to where he lay, one dark hand stretching out to touch the crown of white hair tumbling over the pillows, but jerked back, as if burned, before touching even a strand.

* * *

Mwahahah! End for now! Feels as if I've only introduced more confusion into the story, now, though.... Hope you aren't too confused, since everything _will_ be explained, but further into the story. Ah, well. Hope you liked it! 


End file.
